A Smirk & A Smile
by FreezingLightLullaby
Summary: He needed to feel power. Some sort of worth. Maybe she could help. Just maybe, her smirk could make him feel that way. Or maybe he just needed her. REVIEW! Oneshot
1. Onyx Flower

**_A/N: Okay, I decided I will add, not just one, but TWO Boomercup stories to the Powerpuff archieve! This one will be super serious while the other, well, won't be as much. And I really have a case of writer's block for some of my stories, so this will jog my small brain,__ haha._-_-_'__ This one is a oneshot, and the other one is a multi-chappie. Now, since I don't own the 'Puffs nor the 'Ruffs, without further 'ado', I present to you, A Smirk & A Smile._**

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Boomer downed the bottle of vodka, wincing slightly at the bitter taste and the burning sensation it sent through him as the strong liquid dripped a bit on his new black eye. He smashed the bottle back onto the table, his anger growing. His brothers were just as bitter as the alochol now dripping off the table, if not even more so. They had thought they could kick him out onto the streets for the millionth time this year. But this time was different. It had been five days since they'd kicked him out and they haven't taken him back. Usually, they'd let him in for exchange of a few broken bones and two identical black eyes. They did give him a black eye, but they didn't take him in.

_"Too weak, too stupid." _were there elaborate reasons for not letting him in. He scoffed to himself at the idiotic reasons. He was their brother. Didn't that matter? Apparently not. But he didn't care anymore. He just wanted revenge. Sweet, ice cold, sweet revenge. And he wanted to give it quickly, but how? He couldn't think of anything good enough for his 'brothers'. Nothing was good enough for them. _Nothing. _Yet dirt was the only thing good for _him_. Actually, he _was _dirt. A big, babbling, blondie, blue-eyed, useless pile of shitty dirt.

A long scratching noise directed his thoughts elsewhere. His ocean eyes looked up to a onyx-haired beauty across the bar. Wait a minute, this wasn't just a regular girl. This was _Buttercup Eboncoal Utonium. _What was she doing in this sleazy place? Does she even know this was the place people go and make out in the bathroom? His gaze drifted down, his eyes almost popping out at the sight. She was in a tight, leather mini skirt matching her black and green hautler top that made her chest even larger. She was looking for trouble. He knew it.

Her piercing, misty green gaze traveled to meet his own one. A lopsided grin appeared on her face as she teasingly waved her hand at him. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus all his hate into a glare. She just gave him another crooked grin. He growled at the smirk. He didn't know what it meant. That subtle hint of seriousness that was covered by a layer of teasing.

He smirked as a sudden thought came to mind. He could _break_ her. Or so he thought. Such a stupid thought, but alas he is Boomer.

"What brings you here?" He asked as he walked up to her. Her green orbs momentarily meet with his deep blue ones before she smirked and turned away.

"What brings _you _here?" Buttercup answered his question with another question.

"Does it really matter to you?" He raised a monotonous brow, trying to focus coldness into one small glance. Her smirk never faltered, and just stayed planted on her face.

"I suppose not." Her reply was filled with playfulness as she once again regarded him with a smirk. She swirled the alcohol in her glass before shooting it down and turning to him. An unreadable look sparkled in her electric eyes that somehow matched her defiant smirk. "Does it matter to you where I'm going? Or just where you're going?"

Boomer blinked twice at her question. She wasn't making any sense. Maybe, she's trying to trick him. "It matters either way, I guess." He didn't know how it happened. How they ended up in some apartment. He didn't know why he kissed her. He just remembered being so furious and smashing his lips into hers forcefully. But he could vaguely remember that she didn't protest at all. Not a single peep came from her. She just kept that smirk, not crying out when he threw her on the bed.

It was like she was didn't care.

And to be quite frank, he was envious. He wanted not to care about his brothers, his 'friends', even himself. But it wasn't in his nature. His nature is to be stupidly kind, caring, and generous. It was like he was destined to be the under-minded person that everyone could step on. But it ended up as him wanting more. He wanted more power. To feel strong and invincible, not like his usual soft demeanor.

When his brother threw him out and didn't let him in and when everyone thought even when he was stupid enough to use and abuse, something quietly snapped in him. So when he saw her looking so _easy _in a way, he had to run for the chance.

But like every other time he tried to triumph over someone, she didn't care. That sparked something in him. Something that when he woke up the next morning with her gone, he felt almost obliged to go after her. He suddenly didn't care that he received weird looks every time he went to that bar to sit and wait for her to come. He really didn't care about everyone who passed by having a fun time with their friends. Maybe because the thing he sought so long for was replaced by her. Maybe the whole time it was her, but he had to wait for that spark. And the spark was found.

But he had to keep it.

So, he had to find her again. To see that smirk that embodied power. To feel that spark again, to not care about everyone else but her. His plan for revenge may have been spoiled, but it lead to something more. He just had to have her again. So, he always came to the bar every night, hoping to see a glimpse of that smirk that hid power.

...

The bar was oddly full that night. Drunken women and men lined up at the bar, laughing and smiling. Even the bartender, who usually didn't show emotion, was grinning and giving out drinks for free. It _annoyed _Boomer though. All of those smiles were wearing him down. And the crowd blocked all of the enterances, so he could barely see if she came in.

But he still sat there with a bottle of whiskey, waiting for her. Taking a small sip of the drink, he impatiently glanced at the doorway. Only a few people spilled into the growing crowd, with huge grins that made him want to puke. He was growing impatient. Five weeks since he had seen her was too much. A nagging voice at the back of his head screamed for him to give up, but he paid no mind to it.

Sleeping on the streets, cold and alone, was somehow worth it. That's what he thought. Physical pain in trade for emotional relief. That's how it works out in life if you're lucky enough.

Upon hearing a loud scraping, he looked at the door. Short waves of layered black hair, wide green eyes, and a well-placed smirk. It was her. The one he's been waiting for. Her gaze never met his, but she walked to him nonetheless.

"Hey." He let only one word slip out as many tried to get out. Her gaze finally met his, still filled with the same playfulness.

"Hey." She replied, completely unfazed by his presence. She pulled out a chair a sat down down, only a couple of feet away from him. Waving a hand to the cheerful bartender, a drink was placed in front of her. She sipped the glass casually, unaware of his outward glare. He didn't like the guys that were giving her looks. He didn't like that the tomboy was wearing such tight mini-skirts. He didn't like being jealous either. "You've been waiting, haven't you?" Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Yeah." He regarded her casually, only to shot a glare at a man who was staring her down. Her lip curled into another sly smile.

"What you have been waiting for?" She asked, the ice clinking in her cup.

"You." Another smirk came across her face as the words slipped out of his mouth so _easily. _He was so vulnerable, yet he seemed not to care. That was something she'd like to see.

"Why?" He gave a shrug.

"Maybe because you seemed lonely." Her smirk fell into a frown. She was tired of people pointing out how lonely she looked and how much she deserved it.

"Professor died and I don't know what's happening to my sisters." She gave a hollowed laugh, her frown becoming tired. "But I suppose I deserve, right?" He took a sip of his whiskey before he regarded her with an empty look.

"No one deserves that." She couldn't hold back and her jaw dropped. "Not even you." She recovered and gave a smirk.

"Maybe. Maybe not."Taking a swig of her glass, she sighed. "But if no one deserves it, why are you on the streets?"

"Sibling problems." He said with a shrug. She chuckled a bit.

"Yeah, I know how you feel." She smiled. He raised a eyebrow. Not because he thought she was kidding, but because of that smile. He had never seen the tomboy smile or even seem happy unless she was fighting. And yet here she was, talking to her old enemy and grinning ear to ear showing all of her pearly white teeth. It made him want to do the same. To truly smile. It made him feel more powerful than her smirk.

"Well, best be going. Blossom gonna be screaming by the time I get home." Buttercup gave him a small wink. His mouth formed an 'O'. "See ya." She got up from her chair and grinned and walked out of the bar, leaving him to wonder. Maybe he didn't her smirk or smile to make him feel worthy of living. Maybe he just needed her. Just to keep her for himself. But she's Buttercup. She's nobody's. But _his._

"Hey, kid." He looked up to see the bartender staring him right in the eyes. "Ya gonna pay for that girl's drink? It costs twenty dollars." He glanced over to where she sat. Sure enough, not a single penny was there to pay her bill.

"Shit."

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**_Review and Boomer will pay twenty dollars to the 'Writer's Block' Foundation to find a cure for writer's block. Or just REVIEW! And do my poll!_**


	2. Diamonds

_**Hello. I give thanks to DarkNight18 and 90sbaby112 for the lovely reviews which I so adore. And I suppose, with DarkNight's suggestion and the greatest need for apologies for my slow updating, this story deserves another chapter. So, there's only one question: **__**Can you handle more?**_

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Butch held back a growl at the disgusting sight before him, wanting to kill and destroy everything in close distance. He watched, anger growing quickly, eye twitching as his own brother wrapped an arm around his flower. She smiled and hugged his brother, laughing. Why was she laughing? She never did that when she was around him. Even when they were together, she'd never grin or giggle no matter how much he tried to make her happy. He just wanted her to smile for him. But that never happened. Yet, somehow, his younger brother could make her happy. How?

Why? Was he never enough for her? Or too much? No, no one was too much for her. She was always too much for them. Powerful and over-whelming. Those were words they'd always describe her as. But he was too, so wouldn't they balance? Or would the scales become broken if they tried each other out? The more he thought about it, the more he hated his brother. Boomer and Buttercup could balance each other out; they could work out perfectly. But if he tried to take her hand, they'd both fall and crash.

He watched his younger brother whisper something into his flower's ear and distastefully saw her crack another smile and whisper something back. Why did his brother deserve such a beautiful flower? He should have her; he was certain. But he _couldn't_ have her.

'_There's a fine difference between could and should. You and I are that difference.'_

His eyes narrowed even more, pine green darkening to a nearly sickening color as his brother took off his coat and wrapped it around his flower and picked her up, leaving to go somewhere. The small box in Butch's hand was nearly crushed as his grip tighten at the sight. He only stopped when he remembered what that box had inside. His gift to the beautiful, now untouchable flower. He shoved the box into his pocket and stood up from his seat that was merely twenty feet away from where his brother used to be. He knew he could have easily attacked his brother and take his flower back without any effort, but he didn't. And he was frustrated with himself for that.

He knew why he didn't attack.

It was because she looked so _happy, _and he wasn't the cause of it. He wanted her happy, even though the word was so useless to him, and when she smiled, it was amazing. That smile, so alluring, so enchanting, so _r__are._ He could never give her enough happiness, and if someone could make her smile ear-to-ear like that, to show off that heart-stopping grin, deep down inside he envied them.

_'It wasn't going anywhere unless you count nowhere.'_

He could remember, much as it pains him, when they had something. She was so perfect, beautiful and fierce, something you couldn't find at the sleazy bars he went to. And when he met her, he had to have her. She was a lovely challenge. Instead of shrinking away or crying when he became violent, she rose up and began to fight him. All of those scratches were a mark of their 'love'. However, those marks faded, and their relationship began to , all you would see the two do were two things: making out violently or fighting.

It wasn't really even a relationship if you thought about it. Just two equally strong people that always battled each other. Nothing more. Well, until, that box showed up. It was dark green like his eyes with light green stripes that laced around it. Ever since it got in his sight, he couldn't stop thinking about it and what it could do for him. His feelings grew into a surprising warm feeling to her, the box feeling his head with suddenly wonderful thoughts.

One day, when he passed by that box again, he stopped, and began to examine it. He peered into the box, and, cracking a grin, took it quickly. he flew home, but was greeted by a sight that even to this day stung him. His apartment, _their _apartment ruined. Broken glass everywhere, floor looking smeared with dirt and almost burnt in a way, and all the mirrors were shattered.

_'I do know we're counterparts and exactly like each other, but we weren't _made _for each other. We're just counterparts, nothing more.'_

When he saw it, his eyes narrowed and a furious growl escaped his chest. For those few moments, he thought someone forcefully took her, that she would never leave him. He foolishly took of into the sky, scanning the ground for a speck of green and black. No need to say, he found her. She was leaning up against a wall, her eyes completely devoid of anger or any human emotion.

He flew down, right in front of her. She met his gaze, and saw the anger, and frustration in his eyes. Anyone could see that though. A growl passed through his tightly clenched teeth, and he started to yell. He didn't know why, really. He just knew her reaction. She just got angry because that's what she did. She wasn't the kind of girl who cowarded down in fear of the strong man; she fought back with equal strength and frustration and yelled back.

That's what happened. She fought back.

_'Love? Love? That makes me laugh that you would resort to that useless topic. You and I both know you have no clue what that is.'_

And that's what separated them. But, if one actually put thought into it, it didn't matter. Barely anyone knew about their late night escapades, nor about their 'love marks' they had made for each other. And quite frankly, she didn't care. That's what set him off. Whenever he broke it off with someone or did something wrong, he wanted them to care.

But she didn't. She just left.

_'You know I'd never say yes, correct?'_

His sight fell upon his brother and his flower. His brother was on his knees, holding something up to her, smiling widely. She looked at the item in his hand, a sparkle lighting up her beautiful minty eyes. A smile curved her lips, and she nodded, uttering a faint, "Yes." His heart broke in two. She said yes. But she said she'd never accept such a thing, too much pressure for her. At least that's what she told him. He clutched his chest as a wave of pain and nausea washed over him. He needed proof; he just needed proof. Steadily, he rose and looked to the spot where she was.

On her middle finger was something shiny: a diamond ring.

_'I'd never say yes to you.'_

...

"Go get her!"A bright, happy voice shouted to Butch as a flash of blonde pigtails appeared and disappeared from the room. Butch didn't care to roll his now dull dark green eyes, for he new it was implied. Everyone at the wedding knew he didn't like what was happening. He sighed and stood from the deep red couch he sat in, not caring to tuck in his white dress shirt. Why should he anyways? He didn't care or actually enjoy what was happening, so why should he try to make it nice for everyone else?

He's already miserable and it's not in his nature to be happy when he's that way. No need to try, anyways. The bride hated him. The only reason why he had to bring her down the aisle is because the old man's dead and his asshole brother, Brick, decided it'd be funny to be sick on this day. _'Prick.'_ Butch growled lowly, but shut his mouth when he saw the door creak open.

One lime green converse stepped out followed by a girl in a dress of the exact color. Her short, layered, onyx hair seemed to be slightly brushed, though it did look like someone had purposely ruffled her hair to its normal messy state. The dress was wrinkled and a tear was at the hem.

A faint layer of red lipstick was appiled to her pouted lips, and another layer of deep green eyeshadow was on her top eyelid, making her misty green eyes pop out. In her hand, as her other was preoccupied with tugging self-consciously at the lace-trimmed dress, was a bouquet of buttercups and roses. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she mumbled, "I feel weird."

He stood rigid suddenly, recovering from the shock of seeing her in dress, and shook his head once. "You should. You're getting married."

Her eyebrows came even closer together as she looked up to him with a half-glare, half-unsure look. "I know that," She laced her fingers firmly around the bouquet, her self-consciousness disappearing. "But I just feel weird being in a dress."

He forced back a chuckle and fought back the urge to smile at her. He could just barely imagine her being the exact same dress on _their _wedding day, with the same uneasiness. He'd comfort her, compliment her, something rare from him, if he was the groom.

But he wasn't.

A faint half-smile curled the corner of his lips, and he held out his arm. "He's waiting."

She looked up again, for she had kept looking down at her dress and pulling at it. A bright smile appeared on her face as the thought of her soon-to-be husband waiting at the alter for her. However, that smile disappeared instantly and she linked arms with him, beginning to walk with him. A small chuckle couldn't help but to pass through his lips. _'That's Buttercup, holding back girly feelings.'_

Being this close to her made his tense muscles relax, and a smile finally be able to curve his lips. "You're going to be happy, right?" The words didn't mean to come out of his mouth but they did. Buttercup looked at the floor, and her rare bright smile graced her features.

"Yeah, I'll be happy with him."

The words provided a slight punch to the gut for Butch. His brother was going to make her happy, for sure, but he wanted to be the one who did that. Not his brother. He mentally sighed. It was petty jealousy. All he needs is for her to be happy. And if she is, then he's okay with it.

They made a turn at the end of the hallway, and a crowd of neatly-dressed people stood up and stared at them in silence. He could feel her grip tighten a bit, and another chuckle found its way out. She didn't want any of this attention; she just wanted to get married and get over with it. Not at all like her sisters.

Her sisters spend weeks planning the ceremony, paying attention to every last detail. Almost everyone in town got a letter, but, luckily, only a few arrived. The mayor, who was of course the one who would wed his flower-no, _Buttercup _with his brother, Miss Bellum, who stood by waiting for the mayor to mess something up, Robin, who was too shy to be a bride's maid and stood in the peers instead, Mitch, who just stod casually next to Robin stealing glances at her every few seconds, and the assorted cizitens whom they knew from certain crimes and such.

Her sisters, who stood a few feet away from the alter in dresses of their signature colors, gave Buttercup a big grin and gave a small nod of encouragement. His brothers, Boomer who stood straight and tall smiling at his fiancée- Butch grimaced when the word came to mind, the thought that she wasn't his was too much at the moment- and Bruiser, who stood, with- for once -a slight smile, were stuffed in suits, unlike him who only wore loose-fitting dress pants and an oddly-sized dress shirt.

"I'll be fine."

She seemed to whisper it to herself as they neared the alter and Boomer out-stretched his hand to felt another stab at his heart as she smiled and almost immediately grabbed his hand. He saw her relax and her eyes brightened at the sight of his brother. The pain didn't go away when he quietly walked to his purple brother's side, or when the two said the words he wished they could exchange.

"I love you."

Spite began to fill his heart when he saw the glimpse of a diamond ring slip onto her petite finger. He could've done her better; he knew it. He would do everything and anything for her; he would kill for her. But she chose Boomer. And she was happy.

He tried to remember that when the two were flocked and showered with congratulations and flowers, and carried outside with bright smiles. He really did. But she was happy and he wasn't the reason why. He wanted to forget that as he stormed out of the building, happy that it's over, and took off flying, he did.

_'But she deserves it. And I don't'_

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**_I freakin' love reviews. And cookies. But reviews more. =)_**


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